from_the_outside | [ WWII AU ] a ghost story

It's been almost two years since she's been home, and little by little, the grief has gotten easier to live with.

It hasn't gone away. But she's able to focus on her job, watch movies, chat with friends, sleep most nights. She still dreams about him, but the dreams are tinged with wistful longing and only sometimes does she wake up with tears on her cheeks. She can't have his picture out in this apartment, Kate's apartment, but it's safe in the mountain house, along with his last letter to her, and she has a scan on her phone to look at when the long day is over and she's in bed, the stars from the lamp he'd given her filling her dark room.

Steve has helped, more than she could ever explain, and she hopes she's helped him in return. Aside from a few deeply classified missions here and there, they haven't worked together all that much, but she still sees him almost every day. In the halls, she's undercover as his mild-mannered neighbor, Kate, but in her secure apartment they can talk over anything, everything.

And it works. Every day is a little easier. They lean on each other when they need to, and they spend hours remembering and reminiscing about Bucky, talking shop, chatting about how Steve's fitting into the future. It's nice. She still misses Bucky, an ache that never really goes away, but they can both breathe through it, work through it, live through it.

She's on her way up from the basement laundry machines when she hears a familiar step in the hall, and has to smile to herself – first her own, then Kate's sweeter, more open one. "Hey, neighbor."

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From:

nerves_of_ice

"No, you don't," he snaps, harsher than he means. She'd known a lot of things back then, things she couldn't tell any of them, but -- "You didn't know this."

Or had she? Sudden nausea twists his insides as the thought occurs, and his shoulders slam against the wall as he takes an involuntary step backward. He stares at her in horror.

"How did you know about the bank?"

No. No, it's not possible. Couldn't be possible. She wouldn't have, couldn't have - she didn't know who he was when he came for her, she didn't.

Edited Date: 2023-05-14 03:20 pm (UTC)

From:

from_the_outside

He moves – away, but all she registers at first is the movement at all, and she shies back like a wild animal, her hand tightening on the grip of her Kahr before she realizes he's backing away from her.

"Sitwell," she answers, trying to slow her racing heart. "He spilled his guts, the coward."

He's watching her with horrified confusion, and she lifts her free hand, carefully, holding it up, palm towards him and fingers spread in the universal slow down gesture. "No. I didn't know this. But if I could have stopped you from falling, none of this would have happened."

From:

nerves_of_ice

Sitwell. He'd been there during the most recent reprogramming, he thinks, when Command had given the order to wipe him and start over due to his instability. Sitwell would have known, and it's clear from Sharon's words that they'd tried to come for him when they found out.

He shakes his head once, back and forth, keeping his eyes on her.

"You tried. To stop it. It's not your fault we, we couldn't. It's not Steve's fault either." He draws a ragged breath. "You both thought I was dead. Should have been dead. Shouldn't have survived. You couldn't have known. None of this is your fault. Nothing. Don't apologize to me."

From:

from_the_outside

"Bucky – "

All of it – the last two years, the last two days – it's all crashing against her like waves breaking on a dyke.

It's Bucky. Bucky. Here, and alive, and standing there looking at her. Different, but still him. Her breath catches like a sob in her throat. "I missed you so much."

From:

nerves_of_ice

He doesn't know what he was expecting, if anything. His mind is a swirling mass of chaos, his memory restored but not whole, bits and pieces of a shattered reflection that cuts him with its sharp edges.

Like now. "I'm sorry," he whispers, low and desperate. "I'm sorry. Sharon. I'm sorry."

From:

from_the_outside

"It's not your fault, either."

She breathes, very evenly, then slowly sets her Kahr down on the coffee table. Without it, she feels bare and vulnerable.

It used to be so easy to be vulnerable with him.

Sharon takes one careful, wary step towards him, then another. When she's a few feet away, she holds out her hands, palms up. When she speaks, her voice breaks, just a little. "But I missed you."

From:

nerves_of_ice

He shakes his head, denying it, but stays silent. It won't do them any good to argue, and he's not even sure he can, not with this.

She sets aside her weapon, and he stares at her, surprised, before his eyes widen in true shock as she steps forward, as she tells him she missed him, as her voice cracks.

He almost can't make himself move. Not even to meet her halfway. But he can't leave her standing there like this, either.

His shoulder twinges as he pulls his right hand from his pocket. He ignores it, and reaches out to her, palm downward, making it entirely her choice.

From:

from_the_outside

He offers his right hand, and she only hesitates for a second before she curls her fingers around his.

– his fingers gripping her arm, clenched in her hair, pulling her head back, hitting her, hurting her –

She shakes her head and holds on, stubborn, despite the wave of dizziness, the way her stomach churns. "You're alive," she whispers.

From:

nerves_of_ice

He nods, and curls his fingers gently around hers in turn, letting her hold on to him as she chooses.

His left hand stays in his pocket, the metal of his left arm hidden by the light jacket he's wearing. He'd almost rather cut that arm off again than touch her with it.

From:

from_the_outside

Her breath is coming a little too fast; she consciously takes a deep, slow one.

"Aren't you happy to see me?"

From:

nerves_of_ice

He tries to speak and can only make a low, strangled sound. Happy is a word almost entirely without meaning for him. Flickers of memory from so long ago and distant that they seem to have belonged to another person entirely flash behind his eyes. That man would know what happy means, he's almost certain, and would be able to feel it.

Not him; not the Winter Soldier. Weapons don't have wants, needs, or emotions, and he doesn't know what to do with everything welling up in him now.

"I nearly killed you," he falls back on, a barely audible whisper.

From:

from_the_outside

"That's not quite true."

Her own voice is a low murmur. She closes her eyes and fights back the flashes of memory that come, unbidden, before looking at him again. "You were very careful to not kill me."

From:

nerves_of_ice

She needs to understand. What it does to him is irrelevant. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see her face as he speaks.

"You were a high-value associate of the target that intel indicated he'd do anything to save. Keeping you alive but at risk was the fastest way to bring him out of hiding before the deadline."

From:

from_the_outside

"I know." He's keeping his eyes closed. His lashes smudge against his cheeks in just the way she remembers. "I was bait. Good bait."

Lucky me, she'd told Nat. Despite everything, she had been. Very lucky. If he'd killed her and then remembered... if he'd killed Steve...

But he hadn't. "It made sense."

From:

nerves_of_ice

"I wasn't expecting the man with wings. He wasn't in the files."

He opens his eyes again, having discovered he can't keep them closed; the internal yammering about threat assessment and situational awareness is too loud. He stares down at the floor instead.

From:

from_the_outside

"Neither was I," she admits. "I hadn't heard of him before. Steve must have only just met him."

He'd have told her about Sam otherwise, she thinks. He knows she wants to know whenever he's made a friend. She squeezes his hand, trying to get his attention. "But the result was the same. You didn't almost kill me."

From:

nerves_of_ice

His glance flicks up at that, uncertain and wary as he searches her face before he shakes his head again and goes back to staring stubbornly at the floor.

From:

from_the_outside

He looks back up at her, then away, and she feels like she's about to shatter into a million pieces. "I don't know what to do."

She wants to throw herself into his arms, to hug him and hold him. She wants to back the hell away from him and keep her gun between them. She wants to go back, all those years ago, and tell him the truth the first moment she arrived.

She wants some damn Advil; her head is killing her. "I thought I'd never see you again."

From:

nerves_of_ice

Maybe it would have been better if she never had, he thinks. For her; for everyone.

“What do you want?” It’s a mere whisper, barely audible.

From:

from_the_outside

Her fingers tighten on his, a moment of desperation, before she forces herself to let go.

"Does it matter?"

From:

nerves_of_ice

This time, his nod is immediate and certain. He might not be able to give it to her, whatever it is, but it matters.

"Yes."

From:

from_the_outside

She shakes her head at him, unconvinced. All this is bigger than her, now. It always has been.

But it's Bucky, and Bucky's asked her what she wants so many times that she doesn't know how not to answer him. "I want to be happy to see you," she says, low. "I want you to look at me and call me 'angel.' I want for you to stop putting yourself as far away from me as I can get. I want Steve to be better, and I want the three of us to hold onto each other and never let go again."

She shakes her head again, minutely, and looks at him. "Can you give me any of that, Bucky?"

From:

nerves_of_ice

Every word cuts him to the bone, sharper than any blade. Slowly, his gaze lifts from the floor to lock with hers, bleak and nearly black with an intensity to it that's drowning deep.

"But you aren't." A shudder runs through him as he hears his own voice, as the truth of his words strikes home. "Happy, I mean. If I move, you flinch. Steve's in the hospital because of me; I put him there."

He draws a ragged breath, but doesn't look away. "The man who called you angel, who made you laugh and smile, the man who... " He trails off there as something splinters in his throat and swallows, hard. "I don't know who that man is, any more. I haven't for years. I can't give him back to you. I don't know how."

He takes another breath. "I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry."

From:

from_the_outside

He's not wrong. She isn't happy to see him, exactly. Certainly not the way she always imagined she'd be, if the impossible happened. "It isn't that you shouldn't have come," she tells him, quiet but firm. "It's that you're asking the wrong question."

What she wants has been irrelevant from the beginning. She wanted him to live, she wanted to stay with him, she wanted everything he ever promised her.

She wants for him to still love her, the way she still loves him. But there's nothing either of them can do about any of that, it seems. "What I want, instead of what I need."